


drunk on you

by xxcaribbean



Category: One Direction (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bonfires, M/M, Tailgating, and meets zayn at a party, it's not really a songfic but kinda, or the one where liam's a popstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxcaribbean/pseuds/xxcaribbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Liam meets a man named Zayn on New Years Eve, and it goes a little something like this:</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Liam doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not this.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	drunk on you

**Author's Note:**

> based on luke bryan’s music videos for _don't want this night to end_ and _drunk on you_.

+

There’s a nervous tension running through his body, and he’s almost hesitant to ask because part of him knows the answer. Yet, there’s still a flicker of hope, and maybe he’ll be wrong. Hopefully he’ll be wrong.

“Anyone claim the ticket yet?” Liam asks, drumming his fingers against the top of his thigh.

Harry sits across from him on the tour bus, glancing at his laptop as if his life depends upon it. “No,” he shakes his head without looking up, but Liam sighs and sits back in the booth.

It’s way too cramped in here, and honestly, he doesn’t know how in the world he’s able to live like this for months on end. Even now, it feels like the walls are closing in on him. All he wants to do is be able to breathe.

“No one’s come in any city, Liam,” Harry says again. “I’m not quite sure why you keep wasting tickets.”

He should be offended. No, scratch that; he _is_ to a certain extent because who is Harry to crush his optimism? He’d only wanted one good thing to last in his life, and so far, that hasn’t been the case. Liam could, probably _should_ quit asking, stop being so annoying about this, but he’s determined, it seems, to see if maybe what he shared that night was real.

Although, as each day passes, it looks like that might’ve not been the case.

 _Stupid_ , Liam thinks. _It was one night_.

“You’ll keep leaving tickets, right?” By now, Liam’s curled his hand into a fist just to keep from moving, but that doesn’t stop him from bouncing his leg. There’s no winning, and tonight he’ll go the extra length to work out some of his energy on stage.

Harry finally glances up at Liam with an arched brow. “Yeah, I will,” he complies. “But maybe it’s time you start moving on. Tour’s almost over, and as much as it kills me to say it, someone making you wait around like this can’t be worth that much trouble.”

Liam nods, but it’s out of self-preservation; it’s always been difficult for Liam to handle ridicule, let alone criticism of his choices, but he knows that his friend means well. And essentially, Harry’s probably right.

So, Liam stands up and wipes his hands on the back of his sweats and tells him he’ll be off, find something to do until the show starts, maybe take a nap just to ease his worrying mind. As Liam heads to the back of the bus, he can’t help but pause when he gets to the area where they’ve got a tack board hanging from the wall, something there to keep up reminders, write spontaneous things when times get boring.

Or keep track of dates; there’s that, too.

A month of a half has been crossed out, Liam counts. Weeks have flown by; sharpie has stained the shiny paper of the calendar. It’s been nearly six weeks since Liam first and last saw him, and it’s the first time it really sinks in that Liam may not ever get that chance again. He’ll be only a memory etched into his mind until the details grow fuzzy, and something, in that moment, has Liam’s breath hitching.

Liam won’t cry. It’s silly, is what it is. Perfect strangers, and yet, Liam doesn’t want to give up. Not yet, at least.

Something’s telling him not to, even though all logic tells him he should. The only thing he can do is wait, but Harry’s words are now stapled to the front of his brain. Liam knows he’s too much of a dreamer to really choose a side.

So, Liam shakes himself out of whatever daze he’d been in and continues towards the back of the bus, to an empty bed, and a heavy heart, and tired eyes that hope to see that beautiful face at least one more time before he never has the chance again.

+

Liam meets a man named Zayn on New Years Eve, and it goes a little something like this:

Liam doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not this.

Tailgating, and beer, and a bonfire. Liam’s not from the American south, and he’s not even seen enough of it to know if this is even how it goes, but someone had called him up - Harry, he thinks - urging him to have fun, kick back, _let loose_ for once in his life.

According to Liam, he did, but then again, he thinks work is fun anyway so maybe his idea of it is a little skewered.

But still, he feels out of place, doesn’t know anyone here although by the looks of it, they all know who he is. Thing is, it doesn’t matter, though. It seems like people are too dead set on partying and not paying attention to the fact that there’s a celebrity amongst them. Which, in all honesty, is a bit of relief. Liam doesn’t have to worry about phones in his face, taking pictures, and figuring that his night will be ruined once twitter gets a hold of his location.

So, he sticks it out because he’s supposed to feel normal, supposed to have fun, yet he’s kicking empty beer cans around with his hand shoved into his pocket while sipping on a tall one because well, he hasn’t spotted Harry, and he’s a perfect stranger amongst the couples already hooked up, those that are dancing with the setting sun in the background.

Then again, Liam’s never known normal, but he does know music, and he does allow himself to sway to the beat of whatever the hell they’re playing. It’s not exactly his style, but it’s something; he enjoys it for what it’s worth, and maybe that’s why he glances around to see if anyone is focused on living in the moment.

It’s like watching a film, it is, but it’s enjoyable nonetheless. It’s not often Liam gets to see normalcy at its finest, and as his eyes scan over the crowd, it’s really difficult not to smile, others’ enjoyment his source of comfort in a time where he’s not quite sure how to give it to himself.

So Liam keeps looking, tries to spot Harry amongst the threshold of people who like to believe they’re having a real party.

And that’s just it, though, like slow motion plays, and Liam’s eyes flicker to the back of a pickup truck. At first it seems like nothing, just another tailgate propped open for more people to join in on the fun, but Liam stares because his attention is drawn to the only person that seems captivating enough.

Liam doesn’t even know his name, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way his heart drops down into his stomach, the deep swell of being caught off guard so prominent to his being, that he doesn’t hear the shout of his name over the blood rushing through his ears.

After all, it does take Harry falling into Liam’s arms for him to actually snap out of it.

“There you are!” Harry laughs.

Liam has a good hold on him, keeping him upright because it seems his best friend is already a little too drunk. “Yeah, made it.” He manages a smile because it’s inevitable that Harry’s going to ask how he is - be it tonight, or some point tomorrow. Liam’s meant to be enjoying himself, and he better do a good job of being convincing lest Harry try to drag him out to another so-called party.

He does, however, glance back up just to see if maybe that certain someone hasn’t moved away because who knows if Liam’s going to be able to find him in this crowd. He’d been dancing in the back of the bed of the truck, doing his best, at least, to keep from laughing; at what, Liam’s not sure of, but damn, wouldn’t he like to know.

Although, and as luck would have it, Harry notices even in his drunken stupor. “You looking for someone besides me?” Because he knows as well as Liam does that Liam’s the stranger around here, and Harry is not. Liam gets the feeling that Harry was supposed to wait to get this drunk, help Liam along by making introductions. Then again, maybe Harry grew tired of waiting simply because Liam was late from anxiety of even showing up in the first place.

Liam swallows and continues his search because the lad he did have eyes on is no longer on the bed of the truck. It’s such a heartwrenching moment for two reasons. One, Liam knows it’s a rarity to find someone who he’s interested in, and two, it’s not like anything would’ve come out of him staring anyway, knowing his courage has been sorely missing tonight.

But he can’t bring himself to lie either, not tonight. He’s not even drunk, and yet Harry’s standing beside him with wide, green, glassy eyes, quite hopeful and earnest that Liam has a positive answer.

“Thought so,” he says as he drags his eyes away from the truck parked across the bone fire, parallel to where he’s standing. “Just caught my eye, I don’t-” Liam cuts himself off quickly, his gaze having already slide back over to his previous set upon sight in nothing but hope.

What he does, find, however, is that beauty climbing back onto the truck with a helping hand, a beer ready for him and relaxed features that only a good time can give. Liam snaps himself out of it because for all he knows, that man wouldn’t even like Liam, and he might already be with someone else-

“Zayn?”

Liam turns his head in Harry’s direction so fast, it might look like it was about to snap off. “What?”

“Zayn, right?” And Harry starts pointing at someone until Liam slaps his hand away.

“Don’t _do_ that. They’ll see it.”

Harry snickers. “C’mon, Liam.”

After that, there’s no room for protest because Harry’s taking his hand and dragging him along. Forget his beer and the dirt on his shoes; Harry’s leading him around the fire pit and in the direction that Liam doesn’t want to go in. “No,” he shakes his head and tries to pull out of Harry’s grasp. “No, I can’t.”

But Harry’s relentless, and he keeps on until they’re at the truck and eyes turn to them. “ _Zayn_ ,” he calls, a cheeky grin on his face, especially as he turns back to Liam with an all-knowing smile.

Honestly, if he doesn’t look like a deer caught in the headlights right now, Liam would sure like to know what the fuck he looks like as that someone - that particular someone Liam had spotted dancing earlier - turns their attention to both Harry and him.

“Styles,” he simply says with a nod, and that’s enough for Liam to assume that yeah, this guy doesn’t like Harry, and if he doesn’t like Harry, that means he wouldn’t like him-

“Brought you a present, love.” He tries his best to muffle his laughter with his hand, but he uses the one that has a grasp on Liam’s, which effectively means Liam’s the one to actually hide his laughter- And oh god, Liam blinks a total of three times before he realizes that Zayn’s now sitting on the tailgate, right by Liam. His knee is touching Liam’s thigh, and his heart is like, no longer beating, probably, and Harry’s off to his left subtly watching them.

“Is that so?”

Liam licks his lips, eyes immediately on the ground because even if he’s a bit of a pop star himself, that doesn’t mean that pretty boys don’t make him shy and nervous.

“I’m sure you could show Liam a good time,” Harry prompts before pulling away from Liam.

He looks back at his friend, though, Harry doing his best to walk backwards without actually falling over (nearly trips three times in the process), but he’s still grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. “This one here could benefit from it.”

Liam doesn’t make an indignant noise; no he doesn’t, but he does frown at Harry and have the strong urge to flip him the fuck off right about now.

And yet, before he can do so, his attention his brought back to the matter at hand by a simple question. “Do you want to dance, Liam?”

Those hazel eyes, damnit, Liam’s not ever going to forget, the way they sparkle, the light of the fire casting both light and shadows within them. He looks relatively relaxed, not drunk, maybe a bit tipsy, but he’s casual and cool, and he waits patiently for Liam to give him an answer.

Although, try as he might, nothing comes out, and maybe Zayn realizes that because he smiles so beautifully that Liam’s not going to be alive by the end of the night if he keeps it up. “C’mon, then.” Zayn nods before he scoots back, gathering enough room so he can stand up and offer his hand out to Liam.

Liam takes it, albeit hesitantly, the grip warm and firm as he’s helped onto the bed of the truck. There’s another two or three people here, all of whom Liam doesn’t know, but Zayn doesn’t even pay them any attention when he pulls Liam further back, towards the middle of their floor. In all that time, Liam knows that Zayn doesn’t release his hand, not as he presses in closer, not as he blinks up at Liam with long, black lashes.

It’s all very hazy at first, and it takes a moment for Liam to even regain his sense of thought, but as soon as it’s there, he feels himself react accordingly. The hand that goes to Zayn’s waist, and his leg slotting so gently between Zayn’s, brings them closer, and while Liam knows he has every right to be worried, it’s so easy to study Zayn’s face. It’s the careful flick of his tongue against his lips, how his eyelids flutter as he studies Liam’s face that gives him a little more confidence, the first movement together to the beat of a song that Liam hardly even knows.

They probably look a little off kilter at first, but it works because as simple as it is, it’s more about taking each other in than anything else. Liam doesn’t ever initiate a kiss, and at some point, Zayn turns in Liam’s arms so that his back is pressed against Liam’s chest. His chin hooks over Zayn’s shoulder, and it’s careful sways and much less grinding, Liam doing his best to keep from shaking from nerves.

Soon enough, it’s just the too of them, the party still adamant, the night still drowning in darkness. There’s a few beers exchanged, and a few sly smiles, but Zayn never leaves Liam’s arms in the process of it all, not once to excuse himself and leave Liam alone, not to adhere to the request of anyone else that comes up and asks for Zayn’s hand to dance.

And maybe it’s the confidence that swells, or the fact that this is Liam’s night off from the world of being well known that he allows himself this one luxury, tries to keep in mind that Zayn is simply Zayn, someone who might disappear come tomorrow morning, leaving Liam nothing but the ghost of his fingers against his arms and the feeling of what a warm body can bring just by simply being close to one another.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Liam hums and pulls away from Zayn slightly so that there’s enough room for him to look back at Liam. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, and Liam wonders what this all means, but he finds himself nodding along anyway. There’s a flash of panic, maybe, the urge to figure out why Zayn’s been so open with him so far, but Zayn’s also the first to climb off the bed of the truck, turning around and reaching out for Liam like he’s afraid to lose him all too soon.

Which, the thought is absurd, but Liam allows it, allows Zayn to take his hand and lead him away from the party, away from the truck. There’s a hill or two, he thinks, and he has no idea where he is, and why he’s putting so much trust in someone he’s never met before, but then a barn comes into view just a few yards off, big and the color of faded brown. In the daylight, it might look like it’s about to collapse at any moment, but Zayn pushes back the door and leads them inside.

It’s empty, just full of hay and wonder, a good place to explore and hope not to get hurt. Zayn walks around and does just that, explore, like it’s the first time he’s been here although his movements indicate otherwise.

He disappears behind another door, and Liam makes to follow, but it’s like, two seconds later when he’s back in view, something in his hand and a smile on his face. “Can you play?”

Liam notices the bouncing of a ball and tilts his head at the obscurity of playing a game in a dingy old barn, partly relieved it wasn’t for something like a simple hookup. The sounds of the party are still loud and clear, and while that brings a sense of comfort, Liam drowns it out in favor of nodding. “Not really, but I can try.”

And they do. Zayn throws Liam the ball before pointing to a goal behind them, hanging up above the door of the barn. The rope’s been chewed through, but it’s usable, and he makes an aim for it, throws it in the dark on a whim because it proves just how sudden this night has been.

Then again, Liam doesn’t strictly believe in too much symbolism, so even as the ball bounces off the metal and straight back at him, he doesn’t look at it like the beginning and the end.

Zayn eventually slinks over to him and takes it from his grasp, bounces it once, twice, before he’s letting go.

And it misses, too.

“Was terrible at sports,” he snorts, but he goes for the ball until Liam gets to it first, smiling cheekily at Zayn until the other lad realizes what’s up. “I see how it is, then.”

From there, it’s game on, not a true game or anything like that. Neither of them keep score, but it does result in Zayn tripping over himself, and Liam having to catch him before he falls. It doesn result in Zayn laughing loudly, the entire barn filled with a sound Liam thinks is more than magical, and it does result in them toppling over into a rather failing bale of hay, Liam catching their fall and the ball bouncing off to who knows where.

They settle down after that, Zayn practically on top of Liam, and he gives a shy smile, the first of its kind on a a tempting night. But Liam savors it, especially as a few strands of Zayn’s hair fall forward. Liam can’t help but brush them out of his face, knows better than to let how handsome Zayn is, end up covered.

Zayn ducks his head as best as he can then because it’s not like either of them can hide, but they do shift until Liam has Zayn resting between his legs, back to chest with the barn door open wide enough for the moon to filter in. And sure, it’s dark, and it’s difficult to make out all feature in pale moonlight, but it’s something as Liam traces the back of Zayn’s hand, takes in the tattoos that cover his arm. It’s a difficult thing to describe, this is, but Liam’s not prepared to let it go just yet, wonders if Zayn feels the same or if maybe he’s just going out of his way for Harry.

And that’s insecurity talking more than anything else, but it does beg the question of how Zayn ended up in a place like this anyway. “How do you know Harry?” he asks quietly.

Zayn glances up at him, his hair a bit of a mess despite his earlier efforts of putting it up into a bun. It suits him, though, Liam believes; the dark locks, the silkiness of it adding to Zayn’s character in a way Liam’s not all that familiar with yet. “Old friends, kind of. Acquaintance from uni.”

Liam does note the way that Zayn doesn’t ask any questions in return, but that could be for a number of reasons and not because he simply doesn’t care. “I don’t even know where you’re from.”

But Zayn shakes his head. “Do you need to?”

The question catches him off guard, really, and Liam does his best to stomp down the bitter hurt that resides from the response. After all, Zayn doesn’t owe him anything, a favor from Harry, he supposes. He’ll take what he can get, though, lets himself relish in the fact that Zayn’s right here, comfortable in his arms despite the fact that the night will be coming to a close in a few hours time. “Look,” Liam winds up saying, “I’ve got a few gigs left.” He bites at the inside of his cheek and glances over towards the group of people still outside near the bonfire. It’s difficult to make them out, more like shadows dancing in front of the flames than actual people participating in what some call fun. “Would you want to come out some time? I could leave you a ticket. Like, dunno, get to know you, maybe.”

So, he’s found the courage to offer that, at least, and Liam feels proud of that, heart racing and hands surely clammy despite the fact that one of his is intertwined with Zayn’s. It’s subtle between the two of them, innocent touches that Liam savors while he waits patiently for a reply. He doesn’t know what he’s going to get, but he hopes it’s something good.

“Okay,” Zayn says, nodding against Liam’s chest. “Maybe you can do that, yeah.”

And while Liam feels elated, there’s still that small drawback, a question already asked, but one he’d need to know. “Still don’t know where you’re from.”

But Zayn gives a soft smile and shrugs. “Where I’m from doesn’t necessarily mean that’s where I’m going to be, now does it?”

Cheeky is probably what that is, but Liam gets the feeling there’s more to it, so he simply asks, “And where will you be?” as he takes in Zayn’s face one last time, doesn’t know if his answers are truly an indication that Liam should fuck right off.

“Dunno,” Zayn replies, eyes downcast and fingers running against the top of Liam’s arm. “But I’m here now.”

After that, Liam tries his best to give a bright smile, but his heart stutters, and he feels alive but worried, and it’s such a cascade of emotions that he doesn’t say anything further, only allows Zayn to trail off into stories as his buzz wears off, and Liam’s left in a fit of giggles at Zayn’s mischief.

The time ticks away slowly, it does, and maybe it’s several combinations of things, like the weather, and the warmth, and having someone like Zayn in his arms, that has him falling asleep at some point within their conversations. He feels sleepy in a bundle of hay, eyes closing in the early morning hours with a kiss pressed against his cheek from soft lips, and a head eventually resting on his chest. They both settle down, for sure, a strange night left with no promises, but it works for now, especially as Liam cards his fingers through Zayn’s hair and lets go of reality while he can.

Sleep is peaceful, as it should be, and morning comes all too soon. However, when Liam wakes from his bout of sleep, with those feelings, those touches still lingering of what could be with a man he’d only met just a few hours prior, he finds himself incased in a far different world than one he’d settled himself into previously. The barn is empty when Liam glances around; he’s left alone with wrinkled clothes from an odd position of sleep, and a crumbling reminder that strangers never do last together.

Liam eventually stands up and stretches, doesn’t know the time of day, isn’t quite sure where Harry is either, but even still, he can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself but glance over an empty space, a basketball left forgotten all the while recalling the few, short lived memories of a night he didn’t know he needed.

+

Liam wipes the sweat off his brow with a towel thrown his way backstage. He’s exhausted, can feel it in his bones, but he knows that the adrenaline will still kick him awake for another hour or two before he most likely crashes.

In the meantime, he downs an entire water bottle, the thirst nearly unbearable from not having taken a break during his show. He makes sure to say thanks to anyone he happens to pass backstage before making his way to his dressing room. All he wants to do is sit down, catch his breath, and hopefully find a shower before they’re off to the next city. Liam doesn’t want to spend his night sleepy feeling like he currently does.

“Hey,” Harry says as he walks into the room. He’s gathering things, probably cleaning up like the good person he is, although Liam waves him off and tells him to sit down.

“When are the buses leaving?”

His friend eyes him, knowing very well that Liam’s not usually ready to get on board so early. Again, he gets caught in small places, restless with the itch to do something with himself lest he go crazy.

“You’re not wanting to stay at the hotel?”

Liam takes a swig out of another water bottle and shrugs. “There’s no need to, is there? Faster we get to the next city-”

“Babe, it’s London.”

Liam glances up at Harry and gives him a confused look. “What about London?”

“Guess he’s living in London now.” Harry shrugs and points at the door, and while Liam looks over that way, there’s no one there.

“What are you talking about?” But Liam knows, or at least at this point he doesn’t want to assume because their last conversation had been about a week ago, and Liam had given up on asking three days after Harry had told him maybe he shouldn’t keep looking.

“Zayn,” is all Harry says before Liam’s out of his seat. He could give less of a fuck in terms of what the looks like. In fact, he probably looks completely dazed and unconvinced, but as Liam exists the room, is told by Harry to take a left and keep on walking, he goes. His body feels like it’s on fire; from head to toe, everything burns until Liam ends up somewhere further backstage where they keep a lot of the tour equipment in while Liam performs.

And again, like the moment Liam first saw him, everything kind of slows down. That feeling in his chest is so much more prominent, and actually seeing Zayn standing before him in more than just moonlight and orange-tinted fire, well, he looks even more breathtaking than Liam could’ve possibly imagined.

“London,” he says allowed.

Zayn turns at the sound of Liam’s voice, actually looks quite hesitant to be here, and Liam tries his best to keep his face from falling in case all of this was a mistake.

The other man shakes his head, though. “Bradford, actually.”

Liam huffs out laughter, stepping closer to Zayn until he realizes that that might not be a good idea considering how they had left things before. “Why didn’t you come before?” Liam asks, truly wanting to hear the answer even if it might not be want he would like to hear. There are two people involved in this, not just him, and it’s important that he knows this is mutual before assuming anything.

Zayn, on the other hand, shrugs, carefully making his way closer to Liam as if they’re drawn to each other without the efforts of anyone else needing to step in. “I knew who you were,” he admits. “Just needed to decide if I wanted to get involved. That’s all.”

And Liam, bless him, thinks he could weep out of joy, that instead of him being the sole problem, it’d only been his reputation of popularity that had caused uncertainty. And while yes, that does cause some concern, the relief on Liam must be evident because Zayn looks positively wounded that he’d caused Liam that kind of pain, the unsettling feeling that it might’ve been feelings not returned.

“Well then,” Liam smiles, “where are you going to be tomorrow?”

Glancing around, Zayn purses his lips before shrugging again, finally close enough for Liam to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Zayn’s eyes are still so bright, and while his hair is pulled back into a bun, it’s less messy; it’s sleek and shows off his face, the angles of his cheek bones, the pink of his lips that Liam keeps eyeing because he doesn’t know if he could go his entire life without feeling them against his own.

Without giving an answer, and is if Zayn has read Liam’s mind, he does lean up and gently kiss Liam, quite unexpected but most welcome. It’s not sudden, but it is, and everything is so fine and hard to distinguish, almost fragile in touch. Liam truly doesn’t know the answer he’ll receive to his question, but as long as he has this, he thinks he’ll be okay. He’ll make it.

Zayn draws back after a moment, just slightly, eyes glancing over Liam’s features as if maybe it’s hard to believe this is even real for him. He does the same in return, Liam does, because he knew the moment he saw Zayn that he was something special. And just as he’s about to tell Zayn to forget it, to just enjoy the moment between them, definitely afraid that he’ll disappear way too soon like he did that night at the party, Zayn’s cutting to the chase and surprising the hell out of Liam.

In one single moment, Liam’s able to feel his heart beating again when Zayn simply smiles brightly and says, “Dunno; you tell me.”

+


End file.
